


Oh, How we Fall

by Rynfinity



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5163170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor is reasonably sure Loki doesn’t really mean it.  And even if his brother does, Thor knows it’s still all on to him to man up and do the right thing.  Which is, of course, to apologize and walk away.  And <i>never, ever</i> do it again.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>By popular demand, here is a little of what happens after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5127485">Forging On</a>.  This can also be read as a little bit of freestanding PwP, if you'd rather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, How we Fall

“We shouldn’t do this,” Thor whispers against the soft, smooth skin of his brother’s neck. “You’re just a kid,” _and my brother_ , he swallows down. “You’re going to hate me for it in the morning.”

Loki’s head lolls back against the wall. His fingers are all over Thor’s shoulders and chest. They’re surprisingly cool in the damp summer heat. “And I’m going to hate- you now-,” he pants, “if you stop. Sounds like you’re fucked either way, doesn’t it?”

Thor is reasonably sure Loki doesn’t really mean that. And even if his brother does, Thor knows it’s still all on to him to man up and do the right thing. Which is, of course, to take four steps back. Wipe his mouth with the back of a hand. Rake his hair out of his face and adjust his pants. Apologize, blush, walk away. And _never, ever_ do it again. Except Loki’s breath is coming in airy little huffs and one of those shiny black-polished nails catches a nipple and Thor can’t help himself; he groans into Loki’s goosebumped skin.

“I suppose we can’t have that,” he (caves, against his better judgment, and) admits, to his brother. To himself. To nobody. Up close like this, Loki smells so good that it’s making him dizzy. “I mean, we can’t, can we?” He leans in with his whole body, flattening his brother against the wall, and mouths his way gently across Loki’s collarbone. Neck. Jaw.

Loki keens. He shifts from one foot to the other; Thor adjusts his own weight to keep them both from tipping over. Without their really meaning to – at least he tells himself they don’t, that what happens is an accident – it starts. Their mouths slide together.

In the end it’s this - the warm, wet slide of their lips – that finally sends Thor over the edge. He simply can’t stand here inside his brother’s dark, shadowy bedroom - with his tongue all but in Loki’s mouth and Loki’s hands fisted in is hair - and simultaneously give two shits about what they really, really should be stopping.

And that’s the point at which Thor gives up completely. There just isn’t any gain in even bothering to try.

~

So, of course, he’s done this kind of thing before. With plenty of girls – it’s no secret that he’s eighteen and hot, no secret at all, and everyone loves a star athlete – and even a couple of guys, actually. He’s gotten around some, so to speak, and it’s been fine. Even good, at least occasionally. But this, what’s going on here, now? In the rare moments his brain is still working at all he’s absolutely certain nothing has come so close to wonderful. Ever.

His brother’s lips are perfect; slippery and soft, softer than they look. Softer than Thor would have imagined. Than he _has_ imagined, except he’s not letting himself think about that. About much of anything. He parts his own and - gently at first, then with increasing enthusiasm - works his tongue in as Loki’s own mouth falls slack. His brother tastes of apple, with tiny hints of peanut butter and rich, dark chocolate… it reminds Thor all at once of everything good and everything forbidden.

~

Eventually they kiss themselves lightheaded and have to take a short break; while they’re huddled together (trying not to think, probably, and) catching their breath Thor brings a hand up to cup Loki’s face. “What do you want,” he whispers, thumb stroking his brother’s cheek. “Because I want this to be- I don’t want- I’ll give you- anything.” He mostly just wants this to be good for Loki. Whatever that even means.

Loki twists in his grip, too wound up to stand still. Thor flinches as his brother’s teeth graze his hand, but for once nothing bad happens. Nothing but a slow press of lips against his palm and the wet rasp of Loki’s tongue across the sensitive underside of his wrist. He shivers, head to toe, and his brother moans.

When Loki doesn’t answer the original question, Thor finds himself increasingly anxious again. “You’ve done this stuff before, right,” he asks, trying to steer his brother into making eye contact. “I mean, with other people?” Because he can almost convince himself that makes it okay, somehow.

“Mm,” Loki hums, and Thor isn’t sure if that’s _yes_ or _no_. His brother’s head tips back against the wall again, eyes closed, and Thor licks his way down into the gentle, round hollow at the base of Loki’s throat. “I want you to stop talking,” Loki tells him, wriggling and rubbing their crotches together. “Because if mom and dad come home and find us, we’re dead. You know it.”

That of all things shouldn’t make either of them all the hornier, which of course means it does. “Thor?” Loki’s hand is on his chest again. It’s not cold this time. “One more thing… stop thinking.”

~

Loki gets a hand down the back of Thor’s pants; Thor slips his own in between the two of them. He strokes the backs of his fingers lightly up and down the taught hollow of his brother’s abdomen, pressing firmly in an attempt not to really tickle.

Once again they both pretend it’s an accident when Loki exhales at just the right moment and Thor’s fingers slip below the stretched-out waist of the baggy sweats his brother favors. Loki has (as always, for years) gone commando. It’s hot, and convenient. Thor hums his approval as his knuckles smear a cool, slippery line below his brother’s navel.

~

It’s not like it looks in the movies. Not that Thor hasn’t already picked up that from all that _getting around_ he’s been doing, but even he’s a little surprised when - after only two or three clumsy strokes - Loki lets out a shocked little cry and his own hand fills with hot, sticky wetness.

“Are you okay,” he asks, stupidly. He wipes his fingers on his brother’s sweats; in return (for both things, maybe) Loki nips his bottom lip, hard. When he crushes their mouths together, Thor tastes blood.

~

“Fuck,” Loki rasps, shoving at Thor with both hands. His eyes are huge and his chest is heaving, and Thor wants to-. “Stop, stupid. Didn’t you hear that?”

Thor frowns. All he can hear is their labored breathing. “Hear what,” he asks, watching Loki carefully.

“The garage door opener,” Loki snaps, still fighting to get loose. “Let go of me! Mom and dad must be home.”


End file.
